The Cat Died
by SaraiEsq
Summary: What happens after a cat near and dear to the paramedics dies. A tag to a pair of Season Three episodes.


**The Cat Died**

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John Gage wandered into the day room of Station 51, a pleased smile on his face. The remnants of his own personal population explosion – the five kittens born to the momma cat that had chosen Johnny's bed as a delivery room a few months back – had greeted him this morning with a chorus of meows. Three of the five had been spoken for by firemen on the other shifts, leaving only Drafty and Bleve to reside at or around the station. Although the momma cat checked in every now and then, she seemed content to let the firemen raise her offspring. _Those kittens are the cutest things_ , he thought to himself as he headed to the stove. Coffee mug in one hand and a pair of cookies in the other, he turned to share his thoughts but paused when he took in the other man in the room.

His paramedic partner Roy DeSoto was sitting at the table, deep in thought, lips parted slightly, blue eyes shifting back and forth between the piece of paper in his hands and the wall. "Roy? You okay?" Gage asked, startling DeSoto out of his reverie.

"I, uh, I think you better sit down. I've got something I want to tell you."

"What's wrong?" Johnny asked, settling into the chair beside him and breaking off part of a cookie he'd grabbed from the jar beside the stove. Although they were a little on the hard side he figured they would soften up nicely.

"I, uh, I don't know how to –. It's just –," Roy paused, took a deep breath, and tried again, spacing his words out carefully. "John, the cat died."

"The cat? The momma cat?" John asked. "What happened to her?"

"Not the momma cat," Roy said, shaking his head slowly.

"Roy, I just saw Bleve and Backdraft a few minutes ago and they are fine. Cute as can be, in fact. So, what cat are you talking about?" He sipped the coffee carefully, cookie crumbs and all.

"The … 'feline companion of Mrs. Esther Rosendahl (deceased)'," he replied, reading from the paper in front of him. "You know: our co-heir," he added, stressing the last word.

"Are you kidding me?" John said, cookies and coffee forgotten as incredulity swept over his features.

"Read it yourself," Roy said, sliding the letter toward him. Johnny snatched up the paper and scanned it quickly before reading it again, slowly. "What do you make of that second-to-last paragraph?" he asked when Johnny looked back up.

"I don't know for sure. But I think it means we inherit – from the cat."

Roy took a deep breath. "I think you're right."

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"What do you think Mr. Marshall meant, Roy, when he said there was an issue he needed to discuss with us?"

"That there's an issue," Roy replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "And that we probably aren't going to like it."

"Well, I decided not to get excited about it this time," Johnny responded. "That was just too –." He waved his hand expressively.

"Disappointing," Roy finished. "And I think it's a good thing we didn't tell the guys at the station either."

"I agree." He leaned his head closer to the window, closing his eyes to the bright California sun and letting the wind blow through his dark hair. "Man, I thought Chet would never let up about it last time."

"It's around here somewhere, isn't it?" Roy said, breaking the companionable silence a few minutes later.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, should be on the right," his partner said and, after looking around to orient himself, pointed to the tall gray stone building ahead. "It certainly looks like a lawyer's office," he added as Roy turned his pickup truck into the parking lot.

"Ready?" Roy asked, turning off the engine and pulling the keys from the ignition.

"As I'll ever be," Johnny replied with a sigh and opened the passenger door.

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"Now, gentlemen, as you may recall," Mr. Marshall began, "the court set aside $15,000 for the cat's survival but –."

"There will be some deductions," Roy said glumly. They had been ushered into a small conference room, one wall of which was stacked high with numbered boxes.

"Like a funeral for the cat," Johnny suggested, only half in jest.

"Actually, those expenses were included in the funeral for Mrs. Rosendahl, since the cat's remains are to be interred with Mrs. Rosendahl's."

"Oh," Johnny said, surprised. "Well, there are probably taxes, right?"

"No, all the taxes and fees were already taken out of Mrs. Rosendahl's estate, as we discussed before. Technically, this is still Mrs. Rosendahl's estate since it hadn't closed yet. Now, there is a slight issue –."

"Let me guess: someone sued the cat," Roy interjected.

"No, Mr. DeSoto, no one sued the cat. Although the cat did – albeit unsuccessfully, I'm afraid – file suit against its initial caregiver which brings us to the issue I need to discuss with you." Mr. Marshall paused, nervously smoothing his mustache. "You see, gentlemen, the individual entrusted with caring for the cat made some, uh, questionable purchases which were not immediately discovered. Of course, we petitioned the court for a change in caregiver at once which was granted and filed suit for damages, which unfortunately the court denied. After the cat died, the court determined the items purchased should be included in the residue of the estate."

"Uh, residue?" asked Roy.

"The amount remaining in the estate." At Roy's blank look, Mr. Marshall added, "What you and Mr. Gage will split."

"Oh."

"Mr. Marshall, just what were these questionable purchases?" asked John.

"Cat food. Cat litter. Cat toys. Catnip. All rather large amounts, I'm afraid," he replied, face flushing in embarrassment. "There is some cash remaining as well," he added reassuringly.

"Uh, how much?"

The lawyer flipped through the papers in the file and selected one. "Based on the inventory conducted last week, the residue includes 500 cans of cat food, 200 pounds of cat litter, 58 cat toys, and 100 bags of catnip." He cleared his throat. "And about one thousand dollars."

"A thousand dollars split between the two of us, I suppose?" Roy asked.

"No, no, no. _Each_."

"Each?!" Roy and John said together, looking at each other in surprise and delight then turning back to the lawyer for confirmation.

" _Each_ ," Mr. Marshall affirmed, smiling at last.

"One thousand –," John began.

"— dollars each," Roy completed.

"And don't forget the cat toys and other items," Mr. Marshall added, keeping the smile firmly in place.

"Right," John said. "The kittens at the station will enjoy those," he added then frowned. "That's a lot of cat food, though. About, what, 250 cans for each of us, Roy?"

"No, no, no, Mr. Gage," interrupted the lawyer. "Those amounts _were_ for each of you _._ "

"Five hundred cans of cat food _each_?"

"The cat toys and, uh, litter too?"

"And the catnip. You mustn't forget the catnip," Mr. Marshall reminded them, indicating the boxes along the wall. Johnny's lips formed a silent _oh_ as he remembered the similar boxes lining the hallway, so many in fact that they had come perilously close to being a fire hazard.

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"Guys, what is all this stuff?" Chet asked. He'd rounded the corner of the station to find his shiftmates transferring multiple boxes from Roy's pickup into the station.

"Oh, just a little something for the kittens," Roy said casually, lifting another stack of boxes from his pickup truck and passing them off to a grinning Marco. Bleve and Drafty, as well as the momma cat, followed him into the station, tails twitching in unison as they caught the scent of catnip from the boxes.

"Here," John added, handing a bag to Chet who took it automatically. "Make yourself useful."

"What do you expect me to do with this, Gage?" Chet demanded after reading the label. He stepped aside so Mike could take two more tightly-packed boxes of tins of cat food from Roy, but continued to squint up at Johnny in the bed of the pickup, one eye screwed closed against the sunlight.

"Why don't you take it inside, with the rest of the supplies, Kelly?" Cap said from behind him. "Unless you object to helping out," Hank added, mirth barely contained when he realized exactly what Gage had given the lineman.

"Oh, I'm glad to help out, Cap," Chet said and hefted the extra-large bag of premium kitty litter onto his shoulder. "I just don't understand how come I always seem to get stuck with latrine duty."

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Note: A BLEVE is a "boiling liquid expanding vapor explosion" also known as a "blast leveling everything very effectively" and, no, I'm not sure why I named one of the kittens that but I liked it….


End file.
